


Curses and Coffee

by lordmxrphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Monty and Clarke are best friends and roommates - it's awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmxrphy/pseuds/lordmxrphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"my summer job is working at a coffee shop and this cutie comes in everyday so one day I finally write my number on their drink but then YOU grab the cup by accident and when you call me I don’t know how to turn you down so I end up going on a date with you but wow, actually you’re hotter and more charming than my original crush so it worked out well” (from tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curses and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back into writing Minty and this has been sitting on my computer for a while, hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (Also, I'm taking prompts on my [tumblr](http://lordmxrphy.tumblr.com/) if you want to check that out or just want to chat<3)

Monty has the worst luck in the world. He must have killed the president or a fucking earl in a past life because shitty karma is the only explanation for his terrible luck. Or a curse. Yeah, a curse. That could be it. Monty’s luck is so bad there has to be something supernatural going on. Honestly. How else could you explain his mess of a love life?

First, it was high school when his best, and only, friend Harper told him that she was in love with him. He loved Harper, he did, but he wasn’t _in love_ with her. And he never would be. But back then, he afraid of what she might say if he came out. He told her he wasn’t interested and tried to be as nice about it as possible. But. After that things between them had never really gone back to normal.

Then, in college, he had a crush on his TA. Which was dumb on so many levels. And even if it hadn’t been frowned upon by the school, he was pretty sure that his TA was straight. 

After that mess of a year—because yes, he had pined for a year— he had dated Matt, an asshole dressed as a ‘nice guy’. Matt could barely go a week without cheating, but it had taken Monty a month to finally end things. 

The only serious relationship he had was his senior year with James, but in the end they had broken up after dating for six months when James moved to the east coast for a job. (That was the closest Monty had come to falling in love.)

He knows it sounds ridiculous, but it really feels like he’s cursed. Especially because after months of pining, and _months_ of Clarke teasing him about his massive crush on soy-latte-two-shots-of-expresso, Monty had finally gotten the courage to make a move. Only to have some other guy pick up the goddamn coffee cup. Monty’s life has got to be some cosmic joke. 

Monty doesn’t even know his crush’s name, all he knows is his order and the fact that he comes in every day and smiles when Monty remembers his order. (It was the smile that did it for Monty. Soy-latte was cute, sure, but Monty had a thing for smiles.)

**  
“Seriously?! Goggles dude does it for you?” Clarke had asked, incredulous, referring to soy-latte’s unfortunate head gear, when Monty had told her about his crush.

“He doesn’t wear them every day! And he needs them for work, he’s a chemist at Ark Labs.” Monty huffed defensively.

“I’m sorry babe, he still chose to wear those goggles out in public. More than once.”

“It’s cute!”

“Oh god, you really do like this guy.”

That had been a month ago.

And every day since Clarke has pestered Monty to finally do something.

“Just give him your number. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could laugh in my face.”

“Monty, that’s ridiculous, no one would ever do that. Worst case scenario, you find out he’s straight or not interested and move on to make moon eyes at someone who doesn’t think lab goggles are an acceptable accessory. You can only win here, really.”

Monty groans and lays his head down on the cappuccino maker. Clarke rubs his back soothingly. There’s a break in the crowds and currently the only people in the coffeehouse are two guys at a table in the corner in the middle of a whispered argument. Monty barely looks at them, preoccupied.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal, just write your number on the cup and if he calls, he calls. If he doesn’t, you’re better off with out him,” Clarke states as if it just that easy. 

Which to her, it probably be is. Monty has watched Clarke successfully hit on and get successfully hit on by plenty of guys and girls. She pokes his side, smiling bright down at him. Monty can’t help the way his lips tip up in return. 

Clarke has always had a way of making him feel better. Maybe it’s all the dopey, sleep-deprived late nights in college or the understanding that comes when you live with someone, but Clarke can always tell when he needs a push, when he needs a hug, and when he just needs to eat ice cream and watch Perks of Being a Wallflower for the thousandth time. 

Monty decides that tomorrow he’ll borrow some of her brass and finally make a move.

And that’s exactly what he does. Make a move, that is. He swallows his nerves, writes his number on the soy latte, and calls it out. 

But. Like he said, Monty’s cursed. He’s cursed and will probably die alone. Because someone—fate, or a witch—really doesn’t want him to date. Why? He doesn’t fucking know. What he does know is that the person who picks up the soy latte is distinctly _not_ his goggles-toting crush. 

He turns away for one second to work on the next drink and next thing he knows the door is jingles and a stranger is walking off with the soy latte with his number —gone before Monty can stop him. Monty barely glimpses the back of beanie disappearing though the window, while the his crush still sits at a table engrossed in his phone.

And, you know, maybe Monty could have been fine if it had just ended there. He could have taken it as a sign and never tried to ask anyone out again. No big deal. 

But no, that wasn’t the end of it because _Monty was fucking cursed_. 

“You’re an idiot and you’re over-reacting. It’s a date. Not the fucking apocalypse. And maybe it’s not the guy you thought, but you’re still going out on a date. That’s what you wanted anyway.” Clarke tells him. 

It’s the day after what Monty is now referring to as The Incident, and they just finished with the morning rush. Clarke’s wiping down the drink counter, presently covered in milk and sticky syrup, while Monty cleans the machines.

“I wanted a date with the cute chemist, not some stranger I’ve never even seen.”

“Then why’d you agree to go?”

“Because he sounded nice and a little bit nervous and I couldn’t think of a way to turn him down without sounding like an asshole,” Monty mumbles.

“He had a hot voice and you got flustered, didn’t you?” Clarke smirks knowingly.

Monty sighs, “Pretty much.”

“Don’t worry, you’re meeting him here right?” Monty nods, “Okay, well, if he turns out to be a creep give me the signal and I’ll scare him away.”

“The signal?”

“A code word. It can be… goggles,” Clarke grins, amused at her own joke.

“I hate you,” Monty grumbles half-heartedly.

“You love me and you know it,” replies Clarke easily. He hates that she’s right. 

***

“ _You’re_ Miller?” Monty stands behind the register, fully aware that he’s staring open-mouthed at the cutest guy he’s ever seen, who, by the way, has gone adorably red-cheeked.

Miller nods and ducks his head. One hand comes up to adjust his beanie self-consciously and it might be the cutest thing Monty’s ever seen, “You— You did leave your number on my coffee, didn’t you?”

“Um…” Monty’s at a loss. He feels horrible. Now that he’s seen Miller he really wants to go on that date, but he doesn’t want to lie. He chances a glance at Clarke who’s working on a cappuccino for the next customer, letting Monty deal with Miller without clogging up the line. 

She winks at him and smiles supportively. He sucks in a breath and swallows his nerves, “Yeah, um, about that… I didn’t mean to leave my number on your coffee.” Horror flashes across Miller’s face, Monty hurries on, “But if I had noticed you, I definitely would have. If I had gotten up the courage. You’re really cute. Much cuter than the guy I was aiming for. I swear. And if you still want to— I mean do you— Will you go on a date, to dinner, with me? God, that came out weird. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? The barista I’ve had a crush on for weeks just told me I was cute and offered to buy my dinner. This is a pretty ideal situation for me.” Miller smiles, almost bashful, it makes him look even more beautiful than he did a minute ago and Monty’s heart stutters. Monty barely knows this guy and all he wants to do is kiss the grin right off his face.

“You were crushing on me?” Monty laughs, completely thrown by the absurdity of the situation.

Miller clears his throat, “Yeah, when my friend Bellamy found out you left your number on my coffee, he bullied me until I called you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Monty smiles. “My shift ends in 20 minutes, but if your free now, I bet I can get out early.”

Miller nods, even his eyes seem to smile. Monty has to tear his eyes away.

Monty doesn’t even have to work to persuade Clarke. Five minutes later he’s changed out of his apron and standard black polo, run a comb through his hair and is standing in front of Miller, his date. 

They get dinner at a Mexican place and Monty learns that Miller is a cop, training to be detective and that he lives with his friend Murphy. 

Monty tells him that he’s an aspiring comic artist and that he and Clarke met in studio art their freshman year. They’ve been almost inseparable ever since.

It doesn’t take Monty long to get caught up in Miller. He’s smart, they have the same taste in movies, and he’s got a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. He charming and handsome and more than once it occurs to Monty how lucky he is that Miller picked up that coffee.

Maybe it’s the beer or maybe it’s Miller, but Monty’s feeling bold and as soon as the walk out of the restaurant, he pulls Miller under a stone alcove and kisses him soundly. 

Miller’s lips are chapped and dry as he kisses Monty back, one of his hands sinking into Monty’s hair. He pulls Monty in closer, his tongue running over Monty’s lips until he opens his mouth. The kiss is soft and tender, almost gentle. It makes Monty feel warm all over. Miller’s beard is rough against his cheek and when they break for air it tickles as Miller presses chaste kisses across his jaw and down his neck, stopping suck a mark below his chin. Monty pulls him back up, huffing in frustration when Miller’s smile makes it impossible to keep kissing. 

They kiss for a few minutes before pulling apart again, both their chests rising and falling rapidly. 

He leans back against the wall, one of Miller’s hands still cradling his head. Miller licks his lips and Monty can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

Miller’s the first to speak, voice low and ragged, “I really don’t want this date to be over yet, do you want to come back to my place? It’s not too far from here.” 

Monty loops his fingers through Miller’s belt loops and pulls him back in for a languid kiss. His hand sneaks under Miller’s shirt, making the other man’s breath stutter. 

“Please tell me that’s a yes,” Miller murmurs against Monty’s lips.

Monty nods, “It’s a hell yes.”

Miller insists on paying for breakfast the next morning, since Monty paid for dinner the night before. 

He drops Monty off at work with a kiss, a wink, and a promise to see him later. Clarke takes one look at the beanie on Monty’s head and grins.

“Guess you weren’t cursed after all,” she smirks.

No, he definitely wasn’t cursed. If anything, Monty was the luckiest person he knew.


End file.
